What Lies Beneath
by Isis1
Summary: Draco kills his father. Explains why he does it, and if he has any regrets.


He stands before the door to his father's study, holding   
the dagger he recieved on his thirteenth birthday. It's   
Ivory, complimented with ebony, and an emerald set as a   
dragon's eye. He adored the trivial object at one time,   
simply because his father had bestowed it upon him. He   
now saw his ignorance and naiviety. His father could   
never be anything that Draco needed him to be - his father   
would always be uncaring, for him and for anyone else.   
He now pities his mother - he now sees the hardships she   
must have beared during his life and hers. Now, as he   
stands so still, molding himself like a statue, he takes   
a deep breath, opens the door and walks in.   
  
Before -   
  
Draco was a happy person - no he could never be   
truly happy. This was one of the reasons he despised the   
"great Harry Potter" so much. Potter was always so damn   
cheerful, it made Draco sick. Even through all the misgivings   
in Potter's life, he could be happy. Whether it be sitting   
between the other two members of the dream team or beating   
the hell out of the Slytherins in Quidditch. Draco wouldn't   
be such a prat if Potter possessed some sort of sorrow and   
anguish, he would have been able to recognize himself and   
align himself easier, but Potter expressed no such emotion.   
  
There was one thing that gave him joy. But, this   
to was, he feared, would be corrupted and stolen away from   
him. His father would call it weak - his father would say   
that it was pure stupidity to put such faith in a woman to   
hold all of your secrets and your heart. And, at one time   
Draco would have agreed with anything that his father said,   
no matter how stereotypical or hipocritical it might have   
been, Draco would have killed, just to gain his father's   
acceptance.   
  
That's when he saw her. She wasn't beautiful - no,   
not that, because beauty is a facade, worn by the faces of  
mindless people. She was lovely - her blonde hair and   
chubby cheeks, which only served to make Draco love her more.   
She walks up from the stairs with a bounce in her steps,   
Blaise Zabini at her side. As she nears the Slytherin table,   
Draco never takes his eyes off of her, he couldn't bear to   
loose the sight of his happiness. She sits away from him,   
he abhors that, but he has a good view of her.   
  
Draco has analyzed every detail of her. He knows   
that when she is happy, her eyes become brightly lit and her   
smile can blind someone if they're not careful. When she's   
nervous, she pulls at strands of hair falling from the left   
side of her face and bites her bottom lip. And when she's   
sad, her eyes become clouded - dim - and everytime Draco sees   
this - his heart breaks. Not only does he take on the sorrow   
into himself, but takes a new feeling - rage - but more than   
rage - stronger - more absolute.   
  
Now she's biting her lip, she knows that he's watching -   
she always knows when his eyes are upon her. She slowly turns her   
head and casually meets his eyes. Pansy always feels saddened when   
she looks into his eyes, they're beautiful, yes, but such sorrow   
can pull a person in and make them feel like they are drowning   
in a sea of despair.   
  
She has met his eyes and his joy for the day is replenshished.   
Her eyes are green and her long dark lashes never flutter, but only   
blink in confusion. She still doesn't know why he loves her - why   
he can't stand to live a day without some sort of contact - without   
some sort of connection with her.   
  
It's out by the lake that Draco feels the safest when at   
Hogwarts. The Sytherin dungeons make him feel like he is at home -   
cold - alone. He doesn't hear the soft footsteps of Pansy, he never   
can tell when she will fill his presence with grace. It's only when   
she's beside him, does he know it's her. She falls gently to her   
knees and then sits down. Pansy leans back against the tree for   
support and breaths the cool autumn wind.   
  
Draco moves toward her and leans his head on her shoulder.   
He sighs longingly, his chilled breath causing Pansy to shiver. It's   
no secret that she fears him, she fears he's spent to long at that   
cold house to know right from wrong.   
  
"I didn't think you would come," he says, dryly.   
  
She ponders for a moment. She knows what's in her heart,   
but she's not so sure her mind will allow her to speak the words   
she so desperately needs to tell him. If only to re-assure him or   
maybe to just re-assur herself.   
  
"I'll always come...always, Draco,"   
  
The words were so simple, but together they let Draco be   
free. Something he rarely grasped. Freedom comes without expectation.   
There was always something to be expected of him. Always someone   
pulling or nagging, he felt like he was being ripped in half.   
  
  
  
Pansy was eaten by fear. It swallowed her up and would not   
spit her out. Draco had proposed to her, exactly two weeks ago, but   
that was the easy part - the good part. It was now, while staying   
over at his house - Lucius' house - that fear ran rampant through   
her. It chilled her viens and she couldn't speak. She now kicked   
herself for agreeing to stay hear for a week or so. Pansy knew   
very well how Lucius was - his very nature was that of an arrogant demon.   
  
She didn't even hear the door open - only when he towered   
over her was when she realized his intentions. Lucius had used   
some sort of silencing charm, her voice was lost and she could not   
move. One word - one name she screamed in her mind - Draco. Draco   
would save her, wouldn't he? Surely he wouldn't just let her be abused.   
  
She can feel the hardness of Lucius' body pressing down on   
her. She's scared that he's going to break her. It hurts - the   
pain is intense - he's strong and rough. Tears stream down Pansy's   
face and Lucius calmly licks them from her cheeks. She hates him -   
loathes him more than anything else in the world. In her mind she   
tells herself that this is a nightmare - something that will go away   
when she wakes up, but it won't.   
  
Pansy fears that Draco will look upon her with disgust. She   
was saving herself for him - she wanted Draco to be her first and her   
last - but now she was disgrace. As she sat under the scolding water   
flowing from the shower, scrubbing every last scent and fell of Lucius   
Malfoy from her body, she wished nothing more than to be dead.   
  
-Now-  
  
Now, as he stands so still, molding himself like a statue, he   
takes a deep breath, opens the door and walks in.  
  
The first thing he sees is his father's hunched back, laying on   
his desk. As Draco nears his father, he sees the empty bottles of whiskey.   
Drunk - asleep. This barely regiters in his mind, though. He has come   
for a reson - he has come for revenge.   
  
At first, he couldn't believe what his father had done. Draco   
truly believed that some shred of kindness was embedded in his father -   
he was wrong. Pansy had told him, not right away, which he screamed at   
her for. But, when her jade eyes filled with tears and spilled onto the   
floor, he cried, too. He held her and whipered that he loved her - never   
revealing his plans for vengeance.   
  
Draco kicked the chair holding his father over. Lucius landed on his   
back, slowly coming back to life. Lucius' eyes were glazed, the liquor had   
already taken too much effect. Lucius recognized his son, though.   
  
"Draco, what the bloody hell are you doing?"   
  
Hesitation was not in Draco's blood, though looking back he wished   
he had felt some sort of remorse, but his vengeance seemed justified - if   
vengeance can even be justified? He leaned down and offered his left   
hand to his father.   
  
"Here, father, let me help you up," his voice was filled malice, undetected by Lucius.   
  
Draco pulled his father up and embraced him, it was only when   
he was drunk that he would be able to hug his father - the last time he   
would be able to. Lucius felt the dagger in his stomach, at first he   
thought it was a dream, an illusion, but he soon realized that his son   
had killed him.   
  
Lucius stumbled backwards, blood flowing onto the carpet. It   
pain Lucius felt - it was something else - betrayal. His son had betrayed   
him. But, he then wondered, didn't I betray him? In the dark, cold chambers   
of his heart, Lucius knew he had failed his son. He could have been less   
of a tyrant, a better, more loving father. As he layed back on his floor,   
Draco towering over him, he saw that Draco would be something he could   
never be - a person. 


End file.
